SCRYING MIRROR
by Kay-nu
Summary: Blair is given a glimpse of his possible future. He changes things meeting Jim under different circumstances. Blair finds a job best suited for his knowledge of lots of things. AU
1. Chapter 1

SCRYING MIRROR

This is unpaid fan fiction of the television show Sentinel. It is rated PG-13. What if Blair had gotten a glimpse of the possible future and changed some of his actions? Jim and Blair meet under different circumstances. Blair will find a job best suited for his knowledge of lots of things. It is a very alternate universe.

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SCRYING MIRROR

CHAPTER ONE

"It's not a toy." Charlie knew that he wouldn't be able to dissuade Naomi's son. "Blair, just remember that what you'll see is just a possible future." Rain drummed on the roof of Charlie's motor home. He'd found a quiet place to park. Tomorrow he'd take Blair north to Cascade where a full scholarship to Rainer College waited for him.

"It's not like I haven't tried peyote." Blair grinned. His whole body vibrated with energy. It had been Charlie who had found the Seer's Mirror. Unlike most scrying mirrors this one was said to work for non psychics as well as psychics. Blair was eager to delve into its mystery.

Letting out a sigh the small portly man just shook his head. He had fallen head over heels with Naomi Sandburg. He knew of course that she didn't view him in the same light. In trying to mend his heart Charlie had become somewhat of a friend joining the list of men in Naomi's life who were 'uncles' to Blair.

"Before I let you use the Seer's Mirror, Blair," Charlie said in his most serious tone. "You must promise me that you won't ever use peyote or any other drug even recreationally."

A quick answer started sliding across Blair's tongue. His sapphire blue eyes met Charlie's serious eyes. The words evaporated before they could be spoken. Most of the men who hung out with Naomi really weren't interested in Blair except as a means to get to his mother.

There were other people in Naomi and Blair's life. They'd be the ones who had houses that they'd willing share, people who could be counted on to show up with a car or a truck if the need ever arose. Charlie Spring was on that list. The little psychic had driven up from San Diego in a pouring rainstorm to Santa Barbara to bail sixteen year old Blair out of jail. Now he was willing to share the find of a lifetime.

"I promise," Blair said sincerely.

Charlie released a long sigh. "All right, Blair, I want you to remember that the Seer's Mirror will only show you a possible future once." He stressed the once. "You can change what you see as a possibility."

Blair's head was bobbing up and down. "I know, Charlie." Impatience made Blair fidgety.

Charlie uncovered the ornate mirror. Twin gold dragons held the mirror in an upright position.

Blair drew a deep breath. He was supposed to think of a question.

Fog seemed to be swirling across the mirror. In fascination Blair forgot that he was supposed to think of a question. The scientist in him leaped forward as he leaned to study the mirror. Charlie noted that the eyes of both dragons seemed to glow. Startled he looked at Blair.

Blair is special, Charlie thought. He felt the energy fill the motor home.

Sapphire colored eyes widened. Blair's mouth dropped open as scene after scene flowed across the mirror. The sound of the rain seemed to fade away.

"You're the living embodiment of my field of study." He faced a tall blue eyed man whose appearance screamed cop.

"I got fired for faxing you information on that patient with heightened senses," an angry brunette slapped Blair across the face. The scene dissolved as the same girl held a voodoo doll. "I curse you, Blair Sandburg. You've found your Sentinel but you'll never get your degree nor find happiness."

"I need a partner I can trust," cold fury filled the light eyes of the angry Sentinel.

"I'm really sorry but you're going to have to die," the blond Sentinel woman shoved him into the fountain.

Somehow he was alive again. He stood in front of microphones calling himself and his study of Sentinels both frauds. Fog obscured the mirror.

Another scene appeared through the fog. This time an angry Chancellor Edwards was banning him from the university. "You made a fool of us."

Blair could see himself at a police station he was being told that he had a place in the police Academy. He could feel that he wasn't really happy. His heart had been broken when he lost his change to become a fully accredited anthropologist.

In a horrible scene Blair saw a police funeral. Lying in the open casket in full dress uniform was his Sentinel. "Your fault," hissed an elderly aristocratic looking man.

A final scene showed Blair middle-aged following an aging Naomi though the grounds of a retreat. "Don't you just love traveling the world, Sweetie?" Even though the middle-aged Blair was nodding and smiling young Blair knew he was only going through the motions. He was only marking time. He'd died the day his Sentinel had died.

A boom of thunder startled Blair. He jumped. The mirror now only showed his reflection. "What," Blair's voice was thick with emotion.

"You won't get any more visions." Charlie said gently. He handed Blair a tissue.

Blair ignored the tears running down his face. "I want to change the possibilities that I saw."

Charlie drew a deep breath. The names of two men had come to his mind. "When you get to Rainer I want you to connect with a Jack Kelso." Charlie frowned. "There's also a Rabbi Aaron Goldstein that you need to see." Charlie covered the mirror.

Blair sat staring teary eyed at the covered mirror. Charlie got up to put a tea kettle on. "You need some tea, Blair. We need to talk."

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Well, I had to add a bit of explanation (a couple of paragraphs) before I could move the story forward. I'm hoping that you won't find it too boring. I just need to define what type of anthropologist Blair was according to American definitions. The same discipline has a different title in England. Enjoy.

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Participant observation originated as a method of field work of social anthropologists, especially the students of Franz Boas in the United States, and in the urban research of the Chicago School of sociology.

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SCRYING MIRROR CHAPTER TWO

YEARS LATER

Cascade-Police Station

Captain Simon Banks of the Major Crimes unit of the Cascade Police Department studied the flyer that Captain Joel Taggart had handed him. The captain of the bomb squad was one of Simon's close friends. The appearance of a bomber known as the Switchman had the two friends working closely together.

"Heightened senses are they a legacy from ancient ancestor?" Simon frowned at the flyer. "Is this some kind of college prank?" His dark eyes lingered on the picture of the young looking long haired man in the photograph. Even though the man in the picture wore glasses Simon thought that he looked too young to be teaching anything. "Dr. Blair Sandburg looks more like a college student than a professor." A scowl on Simon's ebony face became thoughtful indicating that he was thinking. Something about the young man's name stirred in Simon's memory.

A chuckle came from Joel. The big black detective settled back with a cup of Simon's private stash of coffee in one big hand. He would have preferred to have a donut or something as equally sweet along with his coffee but he'd promised both his wife and Blair that he'd stick to the doctor ordered diet.

"Simon, it blew me away the first time I met Blair." He grinned at the memory. "He does look like a wet behind the ears college student," Joel paused to taste his coffee. The bitter flavor held a hint of raspberry. He smiled. "Professor Blair Sandburg happens to be the youngest teaching doctor of anthropology at Rainer University."

"Heightened senses still sounds like something out of a comic book," Simon set the flyer down.

"You remember that lecture I talked about last fall?" Joel said quietly, "City Tribes the rise of street gangs?"

"Yeah," Simon said regretfully. "I couldn't make it." He stopped. "Dr. Blair Sandburg is that professor?" Simon let out a whistle. "I've been catching the buzz that some college professor had been coming up with lectures that some of the other captains and a number of uniforms have been attending."

"Blair is a pretty gifted guy," Joel agreed.

Frowning Simon looked at Joel. "I thought that anthropology was the study of ancient ruins. You know like the pyramids of Egypt."

Joel chuckled. "I had a few lessons from Blair over coffee one night. Here in America anthropology houses a number of studies of the human race. Blair started out as a biological anthropologist." At Simon's raised eye brow he added. "He studied the evolution of humans. His exact field was something called human behavioral ecology or what Blair calls HBE. His thesis was on the evolution of tribal protectors."

Simon looked thoughtful. "So how does that apply to police work?"

"I'm getting to that, Simon," Joel said. "Blair switched to cultural anthropology when he realized that he was fascinated with the way society protected itself. He calls us the guardians of humanity." Joel chuckled again. "He tends to get a little romantic about the notion of protectors of society."

"Hell, the kid can send every police officer roses if he's any help with the Switchman." Simon spoke dryly. The explosions had the city of Cascade on edge.

Joel nodded. "Do you think that Jim Ellison is open enough to want Blair in on the Switchman case?"

"We'll know when Jim comes in from the woods." Simon sighed. "Of course that'll be after I read him the riot act about his Lone Ranger act again."

"I'm taking it that Ellison's going on stakeout without being relieved wasn't your idea?" Joel smirked knowingly.

Simon let out a sigh, "No." He scowled unhappily at Joel. "Ellison needs to be taken down a peg or two. He's starting to think that he runs the department. His Lone Ranger act could end up with a lot of casualties."

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A WEEK LATER

"Are you sure that this kid can help?" Jim frowned as Joel drove. His light eyes took in his surroundings. "I thought that we were going to see some young college professor." They definitely weren't headed to Rainier University.

"Blair only teaches Anthropology 101 on Tuesday and Thursday." Joel slowed to stop for a red light. "The Professor teaches anthropology ethics classes on Thursday afternoons. He sees students on Friday mornings." Joel smiled. He knew his friend's schedule down pat.

"So this is Wednesday," Jim realized that he was across the lake from where he lived. He was further startled when Joel pulled up in front of a pawn shop. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke, Jim. Blair Sandburg works three days a week here," Joel smiled. "Think about it. He only teaches two classes a semester. His books are academic which means not a lot of sales." He parked and took the key out of the ignition. "Blair's got to pay the rent just like the rest of us."

Meanwhile inside the pawn shop a middle-aged man laid a short sword down on the glass counter. "I'd like to sell this sword. It came from the Philippines."

"Uh huh," Frank 'Brit' Davis studied the sword. "It's interesting all right. The thing is to establish the price I need to know something about it. Do you have paperwork?" His English accent had a working class sound to it.

"No," the customer shook his head. "My dad brought it back from the Philippines after the Second World War. It's an antique."

"I get fakes in here all the time." Frank gingerly picked up the sword. "I mean it could be a valuable antique," he said over the man's protests. "I'll need to have my expert look it over." He gestured to a long haired man who'd been wiping down another of the glass counters. "Professor, could you have a look at this?" He wiped his hands on his jeans.

Blair Sandburg grinned. He loved his job. Where else in Cascade could he get to see so many unusual things in one day? What people brought into pawn amazed him. "What do we have here?"

"The bloke here brought in a sword from the Philippines." Frank frowned at the sword. "It gives me the willies."

Gently Blair lifted up the sword. "It's a Philippine sword called a kalis or kris." He held in across the palms of his hands. "It has both a spiritual function and a utilitarian function. It was worn as a side arm."

"It's curvy." Frank pointed out.

"That would be a Moorish influence. The waves all have significance. The number of waves or curves means the difference between whether a man was considered a warrior or an artist for example. When you hack someone it can do a lot of damage. If a man wasn't killed right away he'd more than likely bleed to death." Blair noted that Frank had stepped back a little.

At five foot eleven both Blair and Frank were the same height. Frank with his receding short cropped hair and broad muscular shoulders often reminded people of a bulldog. He rarely stepped back from anyone even men much larger than himself. Unless, interest sparkled in Blair's sapphire eyes as he set the sword down.

"So is it valuable," Frank eyed the sword uneasily. "It's creepy to think that it could tear a man apart."

"The kalis also could be made to have good fortune or bad fortune. Often a new owner didn't know which he had until he communicated with it." Blair recognized the look in Frank's eyes. The man wanted the sword out of his shop. Still he continued. "The marks on the kalis put it in the sixteenth century. It's probably worth about six or seven hundred dollars."

"To a collector," Frank said. "You know, Mate, I don't really care how much it's worth. I doubt I could sell it here in Cascade. Thanks but I'm going to have to pass. You might try Owens on fifth. He collects antique swords. He'll give you a fair price for it."

"You could have sold it to him," the almost customer rewrapped the kalis.

"Jerry Owens has some kind of hair up his ass about purchasing anything that's been pawned." Frank snorted. "Besides I purchase and sell things. I have to get merchandise at a price that makes resale profitable for me. I don't see it with this thing." The customer shrugged and left.

"Frank, you felt something," Blair practically danced on the balls of his feet.

"Look, Professor, don't be going on that I've got some kind of spiritual thing," Frank was busily spraying the glass where the sword had rested with a bottle of glass cleaner. He vigorously wiped the counter with a rag. "I go to church now and again but I haven't got any bloody connection to anything spiritual."

"Na you're a wuss, Brit," said an amused voice.

Frank's head snapped up. "Listen, Mate," his mouth dropped open. "American," Frank was out from behind the counter. "Damned," he swept up six foot Detective Ellison in a bear hug. "I thought you were dead!" He'd lifted Jim up off of the floor.

Blair's heart went into over drive. He recognized the Sentinel of his visions. Drawing in several breaths Blair worked at calming the wild beat of his heart.

Joel chuckled. "Ellison, I take it you know Frank Davis." He smiled at Blair who had calmed the racing of his heart enough to smile at his friend. "Hey, Blair, I brought someone who needs to talk to you."

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

SCRYING MIRROR-CHAPTER THREE

Alternate universe theory proposes that a different action will produce a new and different future. The question proposed is if an incident or a friendship was considered preordained would different paths lead to the same conclusion?

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Chapter Three

"You're coming to dinner to meet my wife," Frank set Jim back on the floor. "You're going to tell me how you got out of that little situation." He smiled, "Damned Yank American."

"That's tale I can only tell a small portion of," Jim grinned.

Blair cleared his throat. "I've never heard you call anyone a Yank American. It's usually just Yank."

"That sounds like a tale," Joel chimed in.

Both Frank and Jim looked at each other and grinned. "We'd have to kill you if we told you," they said as one.

"Come on there has to be a sanitized version," Blair's curiosity was piqued.

Grinning Frank gestured to Blair, "Captain Jim Ellison,"

"Detective Jim Ellison," Jim corrected his friend.

"Ah, Detective Jim Ellison, this upstanding young man is Professor Blair Sandburg. He's an expert is just about everything and one of my clerks." Frank paused. "What you Yanks call a salesclerk."

"Americans," Jim interjected.

"Yanks," Frank grinned.

"Americans," Jim grinned back.

"Hey," Joel mock scowled at both men. "We don't have all day. Jim, you need to talk to Blair." He gave Jim a meaningful look.

Frank snorted. "The last time it did go on a bit. It took a bloke shooting at us to interrupt." He patted Jim on the back. "You're not getting out of dinner. Blair can give you instructions on how to get to my house. Bring your misses if you have one. Blair, it goes without saying that you're invited too."

"I'm divorced," Jim let out a sigh. He looked nervously at Blair. The young man seemed young but there was a maturity in his eyes. It was the same kind of look Jim had seen in soldiers who had stared into the face of hell. He nodded. "I'll be there. Is seven good? Can I bring anything?"

"Good," Frank smiled. "You know me, bloke, a good bottle of beer goes with anything that the little woman makes tonight. Go on, Blair, I know Jim well enough to know it's important."

Jim took a breath. "How about we walk, Chief? I saw a hotdog vendor working the little park by the lake."

Blair nodded. The palms of his hands were sweaty. "Sounds good," he sucked in a nervous breath.

Joel looked at his cell phone. "Jim, can you catch a cab back?"

"Hey, man, I've got a car. I can drive Jim back to the police station." Blair looked with curiosity at Jim. A suspicion edged forward.

Embarrassed Jim looked at the floor. "I'll fill you in while we chow down."

It was cool enough that Blair had to grab his jacket. Frank had three other clerks in the shop so he knew he wasn't leaving Frank in a lurch.

Jim waited until they reached the small wedge of a park before he spoke. "I hope you like hotdogs, Chief."

"With everything on them," Blair grinned. He had been walking with his hands in his pockets waiting for Jim to begin. He knew what Jim wanted but it remained for Jim to ask. Since he'd been sixteen he'd learned from that day of looking in the scrying mirror that things had to be dealt with gently. It was a trial and error kind of thing.

Jim paid for their hotdogs getting each of them a coffee. Blair always thought of an ice filled cup with Pepsi whenever he thought of hotdogs but it was too cold for soda.

A posted sign warned that the park closed at five in the afternoon. Foot patrols had roused enough homeless that the little park had become safe enough for young mothers and their children to enjoy feeding the ducks that lived in the reeds near the park.

They found an empty picnic table. Jim sat on the table with his feet on the bench. He pulled out the flyer. "I need to talk to you about hearing things I shouldn't hear." He let out a frustrated breath. "I had my self drug tested. I've been to the hospital. They can't find anything wrong. After yesterday Simon said maybe I should talk to the department shrink."

Blair nodded. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday? Did it have anything to do with hearing things out of the normal range of hearing?" He clutched the hotdogs tightly. It was as if for a moment that the universe was holding its breath along with Blair.

Jim released an unhappy sigh. "It was a clicking sound." Embarrassment colored his face. His light blue eyes had a distant look as he recalled the event. "Joel was asking me what was wrong. I said I could hear this clicking sound."

Blair had to breathe. Absentmindedly he took a big bite out of one of the hotdogs. Relish, mustard and onion registered as flavors mingling with the hotdog meat as he chewed. The air around them was cool and crisp. A seagull cried as it wheeled overhead.

Shaking his head Jim took a bite out of one of his own hotdogs. It registered in his subconscious that the meat tasted fresh. Joey Taylor kept his hotdog cart scrupulously clean. Mentally Jim made a note that hotdogs from Joey's cart were okay.

"Everything started to fade away except that clicking sound." Jim paused to wash his food down with a mouth full of hot bitter coffee. He grimaced at the heat of the coffee. "The next thing I remember is someone shaking me asking if I was all right." He turned his eyes to Blair. "Joel and the bomb squad found the bomb but hell I was off somewhere in the Twilight Zone. Simon pulled my license and my badge. I'm on medical leave until I can fix this thing." Hope and desperation skirted across his handsome features. "There's a bomb out there and I'm falling apart."

"Let me explain about heightened senses," Blair was up on his feet. He went through the spiel about perfume sniffers and wine tasters. Energy vibrated through his compact muscular body. He gestured as he spoke.

Desperation gave way to guarded amusement in Jim's light eyes. He watched Blair pace back and forth. It occurred to Jim that he could smell herbal shampoo. His eyes widened slightly. He heard a thumping sound. It didn't sound like drum. Oh hell, no, Jim sighed. Yup he could hear Sandburg's heart beating.

Several seagulls cried out angrily. Jim could tell by the difference in the pitch of their cries where they were flying. He heard the ducks quaking. A child laughed. Some woman was giggling. "Someone is feeding the ducks," he said out loud.

Blair adjusted his glasses. He looked beyond Jim. "There's a-"

"A woman and a small girl," Jim paused. "Sounds about three or four but there's seagulls trying to get the bread," he looked unhappily at Blair. "How do I stop this? How do I stop from slipping into the darkness?"

"Zone outs," Blair said softly. He patted one of Jim's knees. "Every Sentinel has someone to watch their back."

By the time that Blair had explained about zone outs Jim knew that he had to be careful not to focus completely on one sense. He also knew that no there was no way to turn off his senses. They'd walked all the way back to the parking lot in front of the pawn shop. They ditched their empty coffee cups and hotdog wrappers in a trashcan by the park.

Scrubbing his face with one hand Jim sighed. "Chief, I guess I know why Simon insisted that I see you."

"I'll help you anyway I can," Blair said. The universe still seemed to be holding its breath.

Nodding Jim patted Blair on his shoulder. "I don't know what I'm going to do after I catch the Switchman but he made me part of this. Will you help me?"

"Yes," Blair said. The universe started to breathe again.

Veronica Sarris put down her binoculars. She frowned. So Captain James Ellison had a friend. She'd had to alter her plans. C-4 was so hard to come by. By now that idiot military clerk had probably called the MP's and the police about her. She chewed her lower lip. Homeland Security had probably been called as well. Captain Jim Ellison would soon know who she was.

Lifting her binoculars Veronica focused on the young man walking at Ellison's side.

Inside the pawn shop Frank looked up sharply. He felt that strange tingle vibrate down his spine that always flared up when something was about to happen to family or friends. "Damned," he swore under his breath. He went out the door with one of the shop's security guards following him.

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel someone's eyes on him. He turned letting his eyes sweep their surroundings. Automatically he shoved Blair behind him.

Veronica gasped as she caught sight of Frank coming out of the pawn shop. A memory came to her. Somewhere back at her apartment was a photograph of her father, Captain Ellison and that man. Only he'd been dressed as a British Commando.

Jim spotted light glinting off of something across the lake. He zeroed in on, "Veronica Sarris?"

Dropping the binoculars Veronica sprinted for her motorcycle. By the time a patrol car reached where she'd been the Switchman was long gone.

Simon was far from happy when he arrived. He chopped a cigar as he paced the now closed pawn shop. He had thought that Ellison was pig headed. Frank Davis at the moment could win the title from Ellison. Simon sucked in a breath. "You and your family are in danger."

"I'm not uprooting my family to move into a crappy witness protection house." Frank growled. "Peggy's a dentist. She's got patients to think about. My children aren't going to be sleeping on some bedbug infested mattress while you blokes chase down some crazy woman."

Jim closed his cell phone. He let out a sigh. "I haven't talked to my father in five years and I had to tell him I just put his life in danger."

"It's not your fault," Blair said. He adjusted his wire rimmed glasses.

Patting Blair's shoulder Jim looked at Frank. "My old man called the company he founded. Ellison Corporation is sending over some security guards. A good many of them are ex-military." A half smile formed on his lips. "The old man had a heated indoor pool put in last year. How would you like to bring your wife and children over?"

Frank looked from Jim to Simon.

Simon folded his arms over his chest. "It's that or a crappy witness protection house in a bad neighborhood." He pulled his spine straight as he looked down from his six foot three inch height at Frank.

"Quit using your height to try and intimidate people," Frank snarled. He nodded. "What are you smiling about, American?"

"My brother Steve is pissed. I finally got him grounded." Jim smirked. His fingers squeezed Blair's shoulder. "It goes without saying, Partner; you're sticking close to me."

Meanwhile across town a small bus used to transport special needs children drove away from Angelia Watson Elementary School. Handcuffed to one of the seat the special needs teacher Mrs. Betty Taggart shot angry looks at the driver. A piece of blue duck tape covered Betty's mouth.

Veronica smiled. Always have a plan B that's what her father had taught her. On Wednesdays all the children at the elementary school got out early because of some kind of teacher training. All except the special needs kids and their teacher. There were only two special needs children who rode the bus from Angelia Watson. Veronica had seen the boy in the wheelchair being loaded up in his mother's van before the rest of the kids had streamed out of the school.

She'd thought that she'd lost her chance to snatch her target but the older black woman had come out to talk to the bus driver. Veronica had been in luck. There had been no one else around. She hadn't notice today's only rider from the elementary school watching her from the school doorway. As the bus drove away the little girl moved near the now unconscious driver.

Tina Evens peered through her thick glasses. She'd gotten out of class late. Tina had spilled her paints. She'd had to clean up. Mrs. Betty had said that she'd tell the bus driver Bob to wait for her. Tina sat down next to the unconscious driver. "Bob," she patted the middle-aged man's shoulder. He moaned. He was hurt. There was blood on the back of his head in his grey hair.

Tina remembered all the things that her daddy had told her to do when something bad happened. Fishing out her bright pink cell phone Tina rested her chubby elbows on her jean covered knees. The phone was only for emergencies. She pushed the button her mother had painted red with nail polish.

"Nine one operator," said a woman's soft voice.

Tina sat tall. "Bus driver Bob is hurt," she said in her thick voice. "The bad woman hurt his head."

"Where are you calling from, honey," said the woman.

"My name isn't honey," Tina said. "I'm Tina Evens. I'm sitting in front of Anglia Watson Elementary School," she drew the name out exhaling in exhaustion. "Daddy says that when someone is hurt you have to get them to the doctor right away."

Bob moaned loud enough for the operator to hear him. "I'm calling a police car to come where you are, Tina."

"The bad lady took Mrs. Betty," Tina said. She frowned. "Mrs. Betty's glasses are in the middle of the street. Should I get them?"

"No stay where you are, Tina," the operator said. "I want you to keep talking to me."

"Okay," Tina pushed her glasses up with one finger. "There's a black kitty here." She gently petted the big head of the panther. "I think he wants me to tell you Mrs. Betty's whole name."

"What's Mrs. Betty's whole name?"

Tina drew in a deep breath. "It's Mrs. Betty Tag-Taggart. Her husband is a policeman." The panther rumbled a purr. "He works with Simon. He's a giant. He came to my school. Simon's a nice giant. Mrs. Betty says that he eats all his vegetables."

On the other end of the phone the operator quickly wrote something down and handed it to another operator. The man's eyes got big as he read, 'Call Major Crimes. One of the detective's wives has been kidnapped.'

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TBC


	4. Chapter 4

SCRYING MIRROR

-CHAPTER FOUR

'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,' Zara Act 3 scene 8

The Mourning Bride written by William Congreve 1697

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Guilt assaulted Blair as he gently rubbed Joel's broad meaty shoulder. He didn't know what to say. He'd tampered with fate. The big man sobbed inconsolably as he held his beloved wife's glasses. Tears blinded Blair. God, he hadn't meant to cause this.

Phones rang, other detectives moved quickly from their desks. Voices were hushed. Standing at the doorway of his office Simon Banks captain of Major Crimes spoke softly to Jim Ellison, "I've called one of his nephews and the minister of his church."

Betty and Joel Taggart hadn't had any children. They doted on all the children born to relatives on both sides of their families. Two generations of children at the All Souls Baptist Church knew and loved Aunt Betty and Uncle Joel. A teacher of the year award hung in the small office at the Taggart home where Betty Taggart planned both school and church school lessons. Photographs of her special needs students graced an entire wall of Betty's office.

Pictures of Joel wearing a coach's uniform with teams from the soft ball league graced the hall outside of the office. The house which was usually filled with the happy sounds of a content married couple now sat silent as Betty was missing and Joel was in Simon's office down town.

Dusk had fallen on a city uneasy with the knowledge that the crazed bomber was still on the loose.

At his desk Detective Henri Brown ignored the breath taking sunset as the sun seemed to lazily drift through the evening clouds beyond the ocean's horizon. "It's a freaking yellow school bus," he snarled into the phone. His snitch was stammering on the other end of the phone that no one had seen a small yellow school bus where it shouldn't be.

"The special needs bus isn't yellow," said a soft baritone voice.

All sound stopped. All eyes turned. Jim was out of Simon's office followed by Blair. The speaker a handsome young uniformed officer stood with his hat tucked under one arm. In his flawless dark blue uniform with its crisp creases the young officer could have just stepped out of a graduation ceremony.

Two sets of guilt filled blue eyes zeroed in on South African born Officer Brian Van Rafe. "You said the bus wasn't yellow?" Jim demanded.

Simon's longer legs carried him passed Jim and Blair. "Son, what do you know?"

"My sister Nettie teaches art at Anglia Watson," Rafe held his ground. He'd faced lions, a hungry crocodile, and a black mambo once. Still his mouth felt dry. It seemed warmer in the hushed Major Crimes bullpen than he remembered the hottest summer in South Africa. "Last week as an art project Nettie and the sixth grade painted characters from the cartoon Dora the explorer on the driver's side of the new small bus," Rafe said.

"It would still be yellow," Jim's voice was tight.

Rafe shook his head. "It was painted all over antique white. Nettie said that it gave them a better canvas. There are literary characters like those from Alice in Wonderland painted on the passenger side." He fished a couple of photographs out of his pocket. "I went home and grabbed these when I heard it was the special needs bus that had been taken."

Simon grabbed the photographs before Jim had a chance to. "I'm still Captain of Major Crimes, Ellison."

Jim blushed.

"Why didn't the school tell us that the bus wasn't yellow?" Simon frowned at the pictures. The little bus looked more like one of the small city buses that was covered with advertisements of all kinds. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The bus could drive anywhere in town and not attract notice. People would think that it was one of those special city buses that picked up the elderly or handicapped. It looked like the kind of bus that people had to call for.

Joel came out of Simon's office. He sniffled. "Officer Brian Rafe," he inhaled. He remembered the younger brother of the school's art teacher. Something else tickled the back of his grief stricken mind but failed to reach through the overwhelming grief.

"I have to be in on this," Jim told Simon.

"I'm not giving you back your driver's license," Simon sighed. "Man the phones while we search for Betty."

Blair sat at Jim's desk going through everything on Jim's computer he had on the Switchman and Veronica Sarris. "She's one sick puppy." He looked up at Jim.

"All the reason for you to go stay at my old man's place," Jim said firmly.

Blair got out of the chair. The next thing Jim knew he was being slammed to the floor. He grunted up in disbelief at Blair. There were a number of shocked looks and snickers. Even Joel had the fleeting ghost of smile travel across his exhausted grief stricken face. "Frank taught me a few moves. Rabbi Aaron Goldstein's son was an Israeli commando. He taught me more. What they didn't teach me Jack Kelso did."

A grim look had settled on Blair's features. The last time Jim had died. This time Blair had prepared himself to protect his Sentinel. His long curly hair hung loose around his face.

To Jim's mind it seemed that he was facing the kind of man that would stand in the desert sun holding a slingshot. He wondered briefly if that giant had been any more surprised than he had been.

"I told you, American, never underestimate a short man," Frank Davis had a visitor's badge pinned to his shirt.

"Aren't you supposed to be over William Ellison's house?" Simon frowned as Frank came into the Major Crimes bullpen.

Frank held up a note in a plastic bag. "The bitch sent me a personal invitation."

Blair extended a hand to Jim. Dazed Jim let the younger man help him to his feet. "Chief, you're a surprising kind of guy." A half smile indicated that maybe he'd put Blair into the same category that he'd put a friend.

"Everyone back to work," Simon snapped. "The task force is in the conference room." He gestured to Jim, Frank and Blair to go ahead of him.

The noise level in the bullpen went back up. Even the phones started ringing.

Pulling a ponytail tie out of his pocket Blair pulled back his hair. He followed Jim and Frank into the conference room. The task force had gathered. Frank handed over the note he'd received.

Simon stopped Officer Rafe, "I'm clearing it with your commander. Consider yourself part of Major Crimes until we nail this bomber." He motioned Detective Henri Brown forward. "You wanted a partner to replace Dale Harris."

A WAREHOUSE NEAR THE HARBOR

Veronica Sarris rubbed her jaw. "You shouldn't have hit me."

Betty Taggart was breathing hard. Her hand hurt but she felt a great measure of satisfaction. "You shouldn't have kidnapped me young lady. My husband Joel is a police detective." Betty held her head high.

"I know that your husband is a detective." Veronica snapped. She waved her gun. "Next time I'll just let you piss yourself." She sucked in an angry breath. "Now tighten those handcuffs or I'll just shoot you. I don't really need you alive." Veronica stood on the cold cement floor aiming her weapon at a spot right between Betty's dark eyes.

For the first time since she'd been kidnapped Betty felt a spike of fear.

That's all it took for Frank sitting in the conference room listening to people arguing to feel a tingle go up and down his spine. He stiffened.

Next to him Jim turned, "Something wrong, Frank?"

Blair looked over the edge of his glasses at Frank at Jim's whisper. Frank hadn't been part of the equation he'd seen in the scrying mirror. He chewed his lower lip. Frank was like a wild card that good fortune had sent hurtling in his direction.

"Got a sudden bad feeling, mate," Frank said softly.

Simon snatched up his cell phone he listened. He let out a 'damned'. Jim shot to his feet. "Another bomb went off. Seven hundred block of Fern."

"Not my shop!" Frank was on his feet. "That bitch just messed with my family's income."

"Any bodies," Agent Laura Wilson looked up. Dark circles under her eyes attested to the hours she'd put in on the Switchman case. Like everyone else in the room she was thinking of Detective Taggart's wife.

"Witnesses say a bus pulled up in front of the shop and it exploded."

Sorrow descended upon the room. A few curse words were said.

The conference door burst open. "Captain Banks," Officer Rafe almost shouted. "It's the bomber. She wants to talk to Captain Ellison."

"Trace it," Simon said.

Jim stalked towards the door. Anger tightened his muscles. "It's Detective Ellison." Both Blair and Frank followed in Jim's wake.

The rest of them scrambled to be of some help. Both the police department and the FBI had put traces on the phone call. A satellite orbiting over the Pacific Ocean altered its course. New software owned by the CIA fired up. A favor to its sister agency was being repaid.

Jim snatched the phone. A nod from Henri Brown indicated that the tap was on. "Veronica," he snarled.

"Oh is that anyway to talk to a lady," Veronica said. "Now be nice or Mrs. Betty Taggart will be next."

Blair laid his hand on the small of Jim's back. Jim breathed in a steadying breath. "Veronica, this is between you and me."

"NO," Veronica's voice rose. "This is all about your letting my father die."

"I tried to save him, Veronica. He was my friend." Guilt twisted inside of Jim's gut.

"Liar," Veronica hissed. "I remember what daddy said. He trusted you. YOU let him die. You left me alone."

"Veronica," Jim felt guilt twisting inside of him. He could see the faces of his unit. The men he felt he'd let down.

Veronica sucked in angry breath. "That British Commando cheated him out of money. He's your friend. You both have to pay." She slammed down the phone.

Jim looked to the listening detective. "Did you get it?" The man sadly shook his head.

"We did," Agent Wilson smiled darkly. She wasn't happy working with the spooks but the trade off was proving to be beneficial.

()()()()()()()()

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

SCRYING MIRROR

{Author's note—thank you to everyone who reviewed the story or let me know that they were enjoying the story.}

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Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil set off a Tornado in Texas? {Paper by Edward Lorenz in 1972} The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different.

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SCRYING MIRROR

CHAPTER FIVE

Betty Taggard faced Veronica Sarris. Her heart thundered loudly in her ears. An image of her teddy bear of a husband came to her mind. Silently she prayed but not for herself. 'Lord, if you're going to let some skinny little white girl with no butt send me to heaven then You'd better be prepared to take care of Joel. You know he can't manage on his own. Lord, if you don't take care of him I'll stand next to your throne for the next hundred years giving you a piece of my mind!'

Veronica's hand wavered. Seconds ticked an eternity at time away. She rubbed her swore jaw. It was already starting to swell. "Shut up." She hissed. Abruptly she turned away.

Releasing a breath Betty looked up towards the ceiling of the once sewing factory. "Thank you, Lord." Somehow she was going to escape. She and Joel would be together again. Betty settled against the old upholstered chair. Moving her arm she realized that the handcuff was still loose.

Abruptly Veronica stamped back passed the tangle of junk that was stored in the factory /warehouse building. "You didn't tighten the handcuffs. You thought that I forgot. Tighten them," she hissed.

Behind her painted on the bus side the life sized redheaded Mad Hatter seemed to grin conspiratorially at Betty. Even the slender pretty blond Alice seemed to be telling Betty to hold on. At that moment Betty decided that she liked the young modern version of the Mad Hatter. She closed the handcuffs with a firm but loud click.

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER

Water from the fire hoses flooded what was left of the small pawn shop. Frank stood with his muscular arms across his chest. Jim walked up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry about your shop." Both men wore heavy jackets against the night's chill.

"Your friend thought that I cheated him in that card game," Frank kept his eyes on the ruined building.

Years stripped away from both men until they could have been just again a Special Ops soldier and a British Commando watching a bombed building being hosed down.

"Did you," Jim asked. His eyes remained on the smoldering building. He'd heard Lt. Sarris ragging on and on about the British Commandos cheating at the poker game. It had bugged Ben a lot since Ben had been the champion poker player of the unit.

"No," Frank shook his head. "I'm a lousy player. Cheating would have been difficult for me. I've never had a run of luck like that ever." He inhaled resignedly. The smell of the burned building brought back a lot of bittersweet memories.

"You won a lot of money from what Ben said." A thoughtful look settled on Jim's face. "He must have told Veronica. It really bugged him. You won from our unit, the Navy Seals and those Air Force jockeys."

Frank snorted. "My old man was the one with the itch. When he won he'd be down at the pub buying rounds of drinks. Sometimes he'd remember that he had a wife and kids. He'd stop and buy us something to eat or my mum a sparkly necklace of some kind." His breath was white in the cold night. "I was always hungry when I was a kid."

Jim was silent. The bomb squad minus their captain had packed up the remains of the small yellow bus. The CSI unit had the remains of the body zipped in a body bag. Half bag if you really thought about it.

"My old man would have to pawn something," Frank said softly. "Usually he took me with him." Bitter childhood memories of being teased flickered across Frank's face. They watched the uniformed officers at the yellow tape keeping a couple of teenage boys from slipping under the tape. "He hated that little old man who ran the pawn shop. My dad would walk away counting his money and cussing the old man out under his breath. Mum on the other hand was always embarrassed when she had to pawn her necklaces but she did it to feed us. Her checks from her maid job went to pay the rent."

Jim raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Voices from the on lookers and the reporters drifted passed him. A petite blond reporter stood with the Fire Chief. The cameraman had them silhouetted against the smoldering building.

"One day Marty Stein stopped me on the street. My old man had been wining. Mum sent me down to the pub to try to collect a few quid. My sister and brother were hungry." A quick smile found Frank's lips. "Unfortunately, my old man had started to lose before I got there. I was headed home trying to think of what I could pawn to feed us. I ran into Marty. Marty was carrying a bag. I could smell the fish and chips."

Marty Stein walked with a determined step. He was on a mission of tzedakah. It didn't matter that the receptions of his charity were Christians. It mattered that a young woman with three children was barely able to feed them while her so-called husband drank and gambled every cent they had. Tzedakah, justice and charity, demanded that someone do something about it.

Thirteen year old Frank Davis blinked as the small man stepped in front of him. They were the same height though Frank had a good twenty pound more on his bony frame than Marty. Marty thrust the bag into Frank's hands. "You will feed your family tonight." He'd said in that calm even voice of his. "Tomorrow after school you shall come to my shop. Two days a week you will sweep the floors. Three days a week you will apprentice with my brother in his tailor shop. Your pay will help your mother, brother and sister. Nothing will go to your father."

Adult Frank turned to Jim. "I want that bitch."

Jim slowly nodded. "We'll have to ditch Sandburg. Martial arts training or not Sandburg isn't trained to deal with the situation. He's a teacher not a cop or a soldier."

"Yank, there's something you need to know about Sentinels." Frank spotted Blair coming towards them.

"You're not a cop, Sandburg," Simon had told him.

Frustrated Blair had found himself shut out of the crime scene. He'd had to drive home alone to the little efficiency that he'd called home for months now. It was a much better place than the warehouse that he'd seen in the scrying mirror.

Blair's coat went up on the antique coat rack that had been an apartment warming gift from Dr. Eli Stoddard. Locking the door Blair checked his messages. Despite the lateness of the hour he was shocked to discover a message from Chancellor Edwards.

"Dr. Sandburg, I was on my way to bed when I heard on the news about the destruction of that pawn shop where you work. Call me first thing in the morning. I may have an opening to teach more classes." Her private number followed.

Messages from Eli and several other friends followed. Blair sat down on his couch in relief. The messages took some of the sting out of the seemingly standoffish way that Jim had treated him at the bomb scene. He let out a long sigh. Things had changed. Okay he could work with the changes. The important thing that mattered was that Jim wasn't going to end up dead in a few months.

Guilt about Betty Taggart still whispered in his mind. Blair leaned back against the cushions. He undid the ponytail holder. He sighed in relief as he shook out his mane of curly auburn hair. Massaging his scalp Blair thought briefly about making some tea. Nature and an exhausted body decided for him. Sleep won.

While Blair slept in Southern California a restless Charlie Spring dusted off the two brass dragons that had once held the scrying mirror. "I really am sorry that I broke your mirror but I understand now why you hid for so long." He sighed. Even though he made a good living as a psychic Charlie found himself feeling lonely. He'd finally accepted that Naomi Sandburg would never return his love. His heart though battered still beat strongly in his chest.

He set the twin twelve inch dragons on the coffee table so that they had a good view of the front door of his new house. Charlie gently stroked both dragons' head much the way he would a pair of beloved pets. Sighing he picked retreated to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. He had the latest Susan Wittig Albert novel to read. It would help pass another late lonely night.

Behind him the dragons' eyes briefly glowed red.

()()()()()()()()()

Officer Brian Rafe arrived at the police station the next day early. In one hand he carried a takeout tray for Cascade's Finest Coffee. He stopped to check in with his partner Officer Ryan Murphy. As always Rafe could have been a poster boy for the police department. "I'll be up at Major Crimes until the bomber is caught." He removed one of the three cups handing it to Murphy.

"Kid, I want you to pay attention to everything that's going on around you." Ryan Murphy instructed his young partner. Murphy his once wavy red hair now a solid grey had trained a lot of young policemen.

Brian Rafe nodded. "Yes, dad," he smiled affectionately at the older policeman.

"I'm serious, Rafe," Murphy said. "I want you to think about the detective exam coming up next September. In three years you've shown the good instincts that make a good cop. You'll be a great detective."

Rafe blinded in surprise. "Thanks, Murphy."

"Go on," Murphy said gruffly. "Captain Banks is known to bellow like an angry dinosaur when any of his men are late."

Nodding with a half grin Rafe headed for the elevators.

"Hey, Kid, who's your partner?" Murphy had an open friendly enough expression on his face.

"Detective Henri Brown," Rafe said. He paused and then went on into the elevator when Murphy just nodded.

Murphy waited for Detective Brown. He sipped the hot coffee pleased that Rafe knew that he liked it flavored with hazelnut creamer and two sugars.

Detective Henri Brown arrived yawning in his favorite bright blue Hawaiian shirt. He was stopped at the elevators by Officer Murphy. "Brown, I understand that you're working with Officer Rafe."

"That's right, Murphy." Henri knew the old timer having had him six months as a partner when he'd first started with Cascade PD.

"Take care of the kid," Murphy said. "There's a detective's exam coming up next September. I expect him to be there."

Henri slowly nodded. "I'll watch out for him, Murphy."

All the way up the elevator Henri was thoughtful. If Murphy said someone was ready to move up to detective then the guy had to be a great cop. The elevator opened on the seventh floor. Walking into the bullpen Henri discovered his temporary partner guarding two cups of coffee at his desk.

"I thought that you might like some real coffee," Rafe handed Henri one of the take out cups.

"You got him bringing you coffee, H?" Detective Cooper scowled. "I want one of those uniforms for my own."

"Eat your heart out," Henri grinned. "You're a keeper, Rafe."

At the same time Blair put in a call to Jim. He explained that he had to get to the university.

"It's okay," Jim replied. "I'll be riding a desk or riding with one of the other detective. Simon's not going to let a civilian come hang around while the task force is meeting anyway."

"What about a partner to watch your back," Blair inquired. He'd downed two cups of coffee while he'd gone through his emails waiting to call Jim. Nervous energy pumped through him. "Besides you need to exercise your abilities."

"Whoa, Chief," Jim frowned into the phone. "If I can pass my physical then Simon's going to pair me up with another detective. If not I'll be working in Cold Cases or some other desk job." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm a grownup you know. I can manage."

Blair reluctantly hung up. He frowned as he stared at the phone. When he'd looked into the scrying mirror he'd seen a possible life where he and Jim had been as close as brothers. The way things were working out he and Jim weren't going to be that close.

()()()()()()()()()

Veronica Sarris had woken up feeling grumpy. She checked on her prisoner. Betty Taggart had curled up on the bench seat. It was clear that the older woman was still asleep.

Her jaw hurt. Veronica checked her reflection in a small mirror. She grimaced at the sight of the dark bruise that had formed on the side of her face. Damned old woman had a mean punch. For a half a second she was amused.

Looking around Veronica's eyes went to the small school bus. She didn't like the modern version of the mad hatter. As for Alice she reminded Veronica of a teacher's pet. She scowled letting her eyes drift to the fair haired rendering of Rapunzel. Dismissing the blond princess in the tower Veronica studied the castles and frogs on lily pads painted on the bus.

It was the dark haired princess sitting on the four poster bed that brought a smile to Veronica's lips. "See not all princesses had blond hair." Her daddy had said.

Tears filled Veronica's eyes. Her daddy had loved her. He'd protected her and her fragile mother. Veronica slowly inhaled. Her hand reached up to touch the green pearl on the gold chain. Her daddy had called it a pea when he'd given it to her. His little princess was what she'd been.

A stray thought came to her. Her father had left her. Anger started to boil.

NO. He'd been taken from her. How could she be angry at her father? Her daddy was perfect and noble like a king. Captain Ellison had left him to die. That British Commander had stolen money from her daddy. That money could have helped take care of her sick mother.

Veronica blocked out the memories of her mother drinking. Her mother had been sick. She told herself. Captain Ellison and that British Commando had destroyed her family. She would destroy them. Looking at the bus Veronica frowned. It was all wrong. She needed a different kind of bus.

Almost as an afterthought Veronica took out the key to the handcuffs. She set it on a big wooden crate. Someone would unlock the teacher after. Veronica walked out of the warehouse/factory. She had a suicide vest to make.

Two hours later Betty woke with a cramp in her arm. She stretched.

"Psst," someone whispered.

Betty blinked looking around.

A small man crept out of the shadows. "She's gone," he whispered. Red rimmed eyes were on Betty. "I found the key.

"Who are you," Betty whispered to her timid looking rescuer. The sandy haired man looked like he was homeless or perhaps a junkie. His body seemed to shake even though he tried to keep his hand steady as he unlocked the handcuffs.

"Everyone calls me Sneaks." He helped Betty to her feet. "We have to hurry. She killed Moose." Sadness filled Sneaks voice. "She talked him into driving the stolen bus to the pawn shop. She said it was a prank. She'd hid the painted bus and he was supposed to leave the yellow bus in front of the pawn shop."

Pins and needles seemed to attack every inch of Betty's legs and feet. She had to cling to Sneaks as he guided her through the building. "What happened to Moose?" She used a gentle tone.

"I told him not to trust her. She promised Moose a month's rent money. I tried to tell Moose not to but he said that we needed to move to a better place." Sneaks wiped his nose on the sleeve of his ratty jacket. "There was a bomb. When Moose got off of the seat it blew up." Sneaks' voice cracked. "He was my friend. He watched my back so no one would hurt me."

"I'm sorry about your friend." Betty was horrified. Worry about Joel had her moving more quickly. "We have to get away before she comes back."

"She's not coming back." Sneaks said. "I came to kill her for killing Moose but I couldn't." Sneaks sniffled loudly. "I'm not very brave. I watched her fix the vest. It has a bomb in it. I think that she's going to steal another bus but this time with people in it."

"We have to call the police." Betty said firmly.

"I did. I called Detective Ellison. He always gives me sneakers." Sneaks smiled softly. "Moose liked Detective Ellison. He always brought Moose a coffee and a big bear claw. Moose had a sweet tooth." Tears ran down Sneaks' face. Betty patted his arm.

Sneaks led Betty out a side door. In the distance they could hear sirens.

()()()()()()()

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

SCRYING MIRROR

CHAPTER SIX

Betty Taggart held onto Sneaks' arm as they reached the door.

~Sneaks' Flashback~

"We're playing a prank on the school," Veronica smiled at the taller of the two men. She knew how to use pretty. Her dark curly hair framed her face. She turned her head just enough to appear to be tossing her hair back. A lot of men were suckers for hair tossing.

Moose whose real name was Douglas Johnson just grinned at the young woman. She could have said that she was a visitor from the planet Mars come to steal school buses and he'd have believed her.

"We could go to jail for playing a prank on a school." Sneaks frowned at the young woman. He'd spend six years living on the streets. Trust was something that he rarely gave to anyone. There were only two people he trusted. One was Detective Ellison who often came through with sneakers in exchange for information and Moose. Moose had saved him from a beating six months ago. The two were now inseparable. Sneaks felt it was his responsibility to look out for the younger man. To do so he'd been laying off of the booze.

Veronica smiled at Moose. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt under a good jacket Moose didn't look like he'd been on the street long. She guessed that he was close to college age. Whatever had put him on the street had left him vulnerable. Veronica knew how to exploit vulnerability.

Moose's dark eyes darted to Sneaks. Even when he'd been drinking the older man knew how to keep them out of trouble. "Well," he started to say.

"College students don't get in trouble for playing these silly pranks during rush," she reached over gently running her slender fingers over the edge of Moose's jacket.

His eyes were back on her. He blushed. It had been awhile since any woman had paid attention to him. He didn't even hear Sneaks trying to get him to leave.

"You just leave the school bus in front of the pawn shop. My friends will show up with washable chalk to write school slogans on all the windows." She allowed her eyelashes to flutter. "They gave me six hundred dollars to pay someone responsible to drive the bus so it doesn't get damaged."

"Okay," Moose said in a breathy voice. "Sneaks and I need to get a place with a kitchenette." After nearly seven months of living on the street and in a cheap hotel Moose was more than ready to resume his former life.

Following Veronica's instructions Moose had made sure that the seatbelt was good and tight. Sneaks had frowned and threatened to leave but in the end he'd ridden in a seat behind Moose most of way to the pawn shop.

"Let me out a block from the pawn shop," Sneaks said. "That way if you get arrested I can bail you out of jail."

Smiling Moose handed Sneaks the money he'd gotten from Veronica. "We can catch the next city bus back to the hotel."

A bad feeling still lingered in Sneaks' gut. He was muttering to himself as he walked. Half way up the block the bus exploded. Sneaks didn't know he was screaming until someone grabbed him by both arms.

"Are you okay," the man asked him. His hands had a tight hold on Sneaks' arms. "Are you all right," he repeated.

~End of flashback~

They could hear the sirens. Sneaks took a deep breath of the cool morning air. "Moose wanted to go back to school."

"You helped him," Betty said gently. She patted his arm. Her teeth felt fuzzy. Her stomach reminded her that she'd last had any food at lunch time the day before. Still, she found herself smiling as the sound of the sirens grew louder. She held onto Sneaks. Her instincts told her that the man needed more help than the police would be able to give.

Previously

"Go home, Detective," Simon stood in the open doorway of his office. Most of the taskforce had drifted off to their hotels. The trace had led them to grocery store parking lot. The smashed burn phone they found was evidence that however crazy Veronica Sarris was still one step ahead of them. He eyed the exhausted looking man he considered one of his best detectives. "You're no good to me if you keel over, Jim."

Jim raised a weary eyebrow. "What about Betty Taggart?" guilt reigned over Jim's handsome features.

"Walking around half dead from lack of sleep could lead to Joel's wife and some of us getting killed." Simon let a frustrated breath escape him. "Go home, Jim, get some sleep. We'll get her back." He vowed.

Jim was surprised to see Frank coming out of the break room. "I thought that you went home to your family." He was however glad to see Frank since now he wouldn't have to take a taxi to get to the mansion.

"I went to your house and ate dinner with them and your father and brother. " Frank held out a package. "You'll need to read these."

Frank had one of the Ellison security guards drop him off at the police station knowing that Jim's driver's license had been seized by Captain Banks. He drove Jim's truck back to the Ellison mansion. "I get all kinds of things in the pawn shop. One of the books in the package is by Sir Richard Burton. The second is one of kind journal by a contemporary explorer."

"I take it not the actor." Jim said dryly. He kept his eyes on the street. He could feel the start of a hunger headache. It left him feeling vulnerable to have to depend on anyone else to drive him.

"Right," Frank smiled, "The explorer who ignited Dr. Blair Sandburg's interest in Sentinels."

"I don't smell fire residue," Jim frowned slightly.

"I didn't have either of these at my shop. Sometimes I keep things for myself." Franks let out a sigh. "It's an occupational hazard. I'm a collector of sorts."

Jim thought of the burned out pawn shop. It was a good thing that Frank hadn't kept the books there. "You said that Blair got wrong information from this Burton explorer."

"A sentinel and the so-called guide don't have to be as close as he thinks they do." Frank stared out the windshield. "According to Sir Ralph Winston the sentinel guards had access to a potion that kept them from zoning."

"An anti seizure medication," Jim said slowly as it dawn on him what Frank was saying. "It'll mean the end of my police career."

Two of the security guards with the cold hard eyes of mercenaries greeted Jim and Frank when they arrived at the Ellison mansion. Two more guards were inside the house.

"Sir, your father and brother are in the kitchen." One of the men said in a quiet voice.

Thanking him Jim felt some relief that Ellison Corporation security team seemed to be capable men committed to their jobs. He headed to the kitchen.

Jim was startled when his father wrapped his arms around him. "I'm glad that you're all right, son." He relaxed into his father's hug. Jim gently rubbed his father's back. It alarmed him that the stern father of his youth was now a fragile elderly man.

Steve hesitated. "Dad had a heart attack when you were reported missing in Peru."

Drawing in a breath Jim thought of the recent events. The crazed daughter of one of his men wanted him dead. His freakish senses had reputed again. This time they were going to claim his job. Blair Sandburg wanted to study him and or have some kind of weird dependent relationship.

"I'm sorry, Dad, Steve, I should have called when I came back," Jim felt a strange sense of relief. No matter how dysfunctional his family was they cared. This was where he belonged.

Frank pleaded being tired and headed up stairs to the guest bedroom where his family had settled in for the night.

William Ellison had been generous enough to allow Peggy to bring Tex the steel blue Lacy hound that her father had given the twins on their tenth joint birthday. Tex had taken a position between the door and the bed where Peggy and Chance were curled up asleep. They were covered by a blue brown and cream colored quilt. Austin had chosen one of two overstuffed chairs. He'd moved it so that it faced the door. He was curled up on his side fast asleep. A black and grey quilt covered his stocky frame.

Both Austin and Chance stirred as Frank patted Tex. Muscles on their faces twitched as if they were coming up from a deep dream. "It's all right." Frank said softly. "Go back to sleep." He felt the slight tingle as they acknowledged him. As the twins slipped back into sleep Frank sighed. There was no denying it. Both of his children were like him.

Frank locked the guestroom door. He checked on Austin before removing his shoes. A year ago Frank would have climbed into bed and scooted up to Peggy. Since Chance had been twelve she'd gone from his baby girl to a slowly awakening young woman. Their relationship was changing. Frank knew he had to give her space as he also had to give his son Austin room to stand on his own as a young man.

Leaning over Frank gave Peggy a kiss on her forehead. She stirred slightly but remained asleep. He settled into the second chair putting his feet onto the matching ottoman.

Growing up in London had been difficult. Frank owed his sanity to Marty and his family. All things considered it might be easier to raise Austin and Chance on his father-in-law's remote Texas ranch. Then again in Cascade there was a sentinel and a guide.

From the stories Marty and his family had shared Frank knew that a sentinel didn't appear in an area without a reason. He himself had been drawn to this area for a reason. Letting out a soft sigh Frank yawned. He'd taught both Austin and Chance to quilt and cook. Their learned life skills had allowed them to ace their home economics classes. The games they'd been taught as children had given them some awareness of their gift.

Tex curled up between Frank and Austin's chairs. The dog yawned. In the dim light Frank feeling bone weary relaxed in the chair. Marty had been right. Things have a way of falling into place. He'd start more serious training after they caught or killed Veronica Sarris. The Sentinel's backup needed to be ready.

NEXT MORNING

Seconds before his alarm went off Blair jerked out his slumber. He frowned in the dark and realized that his upstairs neighbor's dog was running across the ceiling or rather their floor again. Blair sighed.

It sounded like a horse galloping across the ceiling. Blair shut off the alarm Apartment living meant enduring the noise of his neighbors. He sighed again climbing out of bed. Maybe living in a warehouse with rats wasn't such a bad idea. Blair stumbled to the bathroom.

A shower and a cup of coffee later Blair had to listen to the sound of children running down the stairs outside of his apartment. Most of the time he could tune out the sounds but after all the stuff going down with finding a genuine sentinel and the horrible mess with Veronica Sarris Blair felt a little distracted.

He checked over his finances on his computer while waiting for a decent enough time to call Chancellor Edwards.

In the warehouse district Veronica adjusted her suicide vest.

Meanwhile at the Ellison mansion Jim stumbled through his own shower and shaving routine. He headed downstairs to grab a quick cup of coffee and maybe a toast before he headed back to the station. If he couldn't get Frank to drive him maybe he could get one of the security guards to drive him to the station.

Frank and Peggy were in the kitchen with William and Steve. Jim looked in surprise to see that Frank appeared to be cooking breakfast. The appetizing aroma of cooking sausage and fresh brewing coffee filled the kitchen.

"It's Sally's day off," William told his eldest son. "Her husband isn't feeling well. I suggested that she take the week off all things considered."

Jim nodded. He accepted a cup of coffee from Frank. "Thanks. Dad, it might be a good idea if Sally stays away from the family until I catch Veronica Sarris."

"Frank, looks like the twins have finished walking Tex," Peggy warned. The petite brunette sat facing the glass patio door.

Jim could feel the slight tension in the kitchen. He shot his brother a look. Steve shrugged his shoulders. A smile tugged at his lips. Even William seemed slightly amused.

"I know how to be a civilized father." Frank muttered under his breath.

William greeted Austin and Chance with, "Did Tex enjoy the back garden area?"

"Tex had a good run." Austin held the dog's leash. Both he and his sister seemed to avoid looking at their father as he set plates of food on the table.

Jim raised an eyebrow. Both Austin and Chance had a totally different look then the night before. Each sported short spiked haircuts. Chance wore a makeup that made her oval shaped face look pasty white. He was aware from overhearing some complaints from Detective Lee and Detective Jones about their daughters that some teenage girls followed several currently popular vampire television dramas.

"I'm guessing that vampires have updated their looks." Jim smiled at Chance. He could see that Frank wasn't happy that his daughter had cut what had once been shoulder length hair.

Chance sat down between her mother and William. "Vampires are so yesterday," Chance tasted her glass of orange juice. Jim had been dismissed as an unaware adult.

William spoke up, "Zombies are more relevant today. There's a zombie version of Pride and Prejudice out." He earned an approving look from Chance. Jim almost choked on his coffee.

Austin poured food into a big bowl for Tex. "Dad, you should see this cool house next door." He blushed as he realized he wasn't supposed to be talking to his father. Chance scowled at her twin.

"Maybe later," Frank handed Jim a plate of sausages and eggs. "I'm going with Jim to the station. I have to find out when I can go open the floor safe."

William and Steve made small talk with Chance and Austin. It seemed that they were somehow on the list of approved adults. Peggy gave Frank a couple of warning looks. Frank sighed and kept his eyes on his plate.

Jim was halfway through his breakfast when his cell phone rang. He wasn't surprised to hear Sneaks' voice. Rewards often had snitches and informants calling in. This information had Jim out of his chair. "Yeah, Sneaks," He listened. "I'll call the station. Stay where you are."

"Did you get a lead?" Frank asked.

Jim nodded. When he closed his cell phone he shot Frank a look. The man wasn't a cop but he'd due for backup. "My informant has found Veronica and Betty."

Frank gave Peggy a kiss on the forehead. "It'll be over soon and I'll have another shop up and running. With what I've got at home and in the safe I can pay all the people who had stuff at the pawn shop."

"Good," Peggy looked up at her husband. "I'd rather stay in Cascade then have to make the daily commute from my dad's ranch to my dental office."

Sucking in a breath Frank meet his children's light eyes, "I apologize for over reacting. Of course we're not going to move to Texas."

"How about piercing and tattoos," demanded Chance.

"We'll talk when I get home tonight." Frank fled with Jim.

As Jim and Frank headed to the warehouse district Blair was on the phone with Chancellor Edwards. The college it seemed had an emergency fund if he needed but more importantly there was a job. "It's not at the college I'm afraid," Chancellor Edwards admitted.

"It's Nicolas Morgan Private School," she said. "They need a part time history teacher. It has ideal small classes and motivated students." When she mentioned the salary Blair almost forgot to breath.

"Thank you, Chancellor Edwards," Blair knew that with the money he could find a quieter place to live. The residual check from one of his books would pay for moving costs and maybe some more furniture.

Eli Stoddard and Jack Kelso both called. They offered ways for Blair to earn some more money. Blair almost cried. Now if things could be worked out with Jim.

Jim and Frank reached the warehouse just as Simon and several patrol cars did. Without a badge Jim was glad that he was recognized.

Sneaks escorted Betty to Simon.

"I had an officer sent to pickup Joel. We'll meet him at the hospital." Betty nodded. No matter that she felt fine the procedure was to have her checked out.

Jim slapped Sneaks on the shoulder. "You've earned a trip to Sneaker Heaven," he mentioned the store that had opened in a posh section of Cascade.

"Just catch that woman," Sneaks said. For once sneakers were the last thing on his still grieving mind.

Simon handed Jim his badge. "It's only temporary but you'll still need a driver."

Jim nodded. He squared his shoulders.

Veronica's long beige raincoat hid her suicide vest. She'd walked several blocks after parking the stolen car to find the right bus stop. Her eyes settled on the men and women waiting at the bus stop. These were the kind of people who'd sent her father into harm's way. These would do. She moved near the bus bench.

A city bus moved with the flow of traffic towards them.

()()()()()()()()()()

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

SCRYING MIRROR

[Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,} Zara act 3 scene 8

The Mourning Bride by William Congreve 1697

CHAPTER SEVEN

Veronica Sarris climbed aboard the bus behind a woman in a black business suit and matching black raincoat. She was the last passenger to board the bus. She put her hand on the top of the clear coin collection box. Veronica opened her raincoat enough for the middle aged driver to see the bomb. "Shut the door," she said in deadly quiet voice. "You're going on a new route today." For added measure Veronica made certain that the bus driver saw the handgun she carried.

The driver's eyes went wide. He shut the door pulling away as Veronica directed him.

From the middle of the bus Austin and Chance had spotted the bomb vest that Veronica wore. Using the passengers in front of them to shield her Chance opened her cell phone. Her split lip hurt as she opened her mouth to speak into the phone. At her side Austin keep his eyes on Veronica. Like his twin Austin had a split swollen lip from being punched. Both had their raincoats buttoned over their torn clothing.

()()()()()

LA AIRPORT

Airports weren't places that Charlie Spring liked to be at. He sighed. He had check in his luggage. Mentally he closed his barriers. So many people even at the early hour made for flashes of information that intruded upon him. He let out a sigh. At least the line was moving quickly.

Charlie chewed his lower lip. He sent out a mental prayer that Blair would get his message. His eyes went to the message board. His flight was listed as arrived safely. Charlie smiled. Sometimes being a psychic had its advantages.

()()()()()()

CASCADE

The minute that bus twelve deviated from its usual route an alert dispatcher called the bus. "You got road problems, Mac," she asked. "Is traffic being diverted, over?"

There was no responding answer.

Jenny tried again. When the driver failed again to respond she initiated a call to the Cascade Police Department.

A storm rolling off the ocean made launching the police helicopters impossible. An alert went out to all patrol cars. "Damned," Simon growled. "I'd love it if we had another drunken bus driver pissed off at his bosses."

He left the hospital confident that Joel and Betty were together and in good spirits.

The call about the missing bus was heard by Jim and Frank. They looked at one another. "Take the next street," Jim said.

Jenny at the bus station noted that the GPS tracing device indicated that the bus had made another turn. It was headed at a high rate of speed for a bus towards the south end of Cascade.

She relayed the message to the Cascade Police.

"Third and Elm," Blair ran up the street. He'd left his Corvair parked in a city parking lot. Charlie had left him a message and now, Blair gasped for breath. If he missed the bus the domino effect of losing the Sentinel would cause a number of things to happen in Cascade. None of it as Charlie had said would be good. Catastrophic had been the word that Charlie had used.

The bus was coming up the street.

On the bus Veronica had been forced to pull out her gun. Some of the passengers on the bus didn't think that the bomb was real. She scowled, funny how a gun could change their minds.

The bus slowed as it approached the stop sign at Third and Elm. Veronica turned her head about to order the bus driver to go through the stop when she spotted a familiar figure waiting by the stop sign. "Stop and let Captain Ellison's friend on," Veronica smirked.

Several blocks away both Jim and Frank were hit with a sudden bad feeling.

Frank's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. "Don't say it, Yank." One glance told him that it was one of his children. The code for emergency had him answering.

Jim's sensitive hearing got the conversation. His gut tightened.

"She's stopped the bus. Professor Blair Sandburg got on." Chance whispered. Frank had insisted that his children call adults who worked for him by Mr. or Miss and in Blair's case Professor. "She's telling him we're going to the end of the line on the Third and Park Street Bridge."

"Don't let her see the phone." Frank warned. "We'll get to you." He closed his cell phone.

"Second street has a bridge at Date," Jim grabbed the radio microphone.

"Just don't set off the bomb when you land on the roof of the bus, Yank," Frank turned off of Third Street. "I'm rather fond of my children." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "My children and I are going to have a rather long discussion about why they skipped school this morning."

Fat drops of rain splattered the bus windshield. Veronica frowned unhappily. She wanted it to be a sunny day.

On a street over Frank pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The pickup zoomed around a slower moving car.

Jim realized that he was weaponless. "Damned it, Simon still has my weapon."

"Mate," Frank almost smiled. "I've got a 9mm Glock pistol and a stun gun in my jacket pocket. Which one do you want?"

Jim looked at Frank in surprise. "Do you have permits?"

"Of course," Frank spotted their destination. "I carry a lot of cash. I've had to arm myself." He nodded to the structure up ahead.

Inside the bus Blair faced Veronica. "You don't want to do this."

"Yes, I do," Veronica said. She pulled out a cell phone. "Only I want Captain Ellison to be on the bus with us."

They were all startled when something landed on top of the bus. Veronica looked up at the bus ceiling. "If that's Captain Ellison," she said slowly. "Then there is only one more person that we need to attend this last stop."

"These people had done nothing to you," Blair spoke up quickly. "Why not let them off?"

Veronica shook her head. "My daddy said that sometimes there's collateral damage."

Several women were sobbing quietly. Austin and Chance exchanged guarded looks.

"Your father was all about protecting people." Blair said gently.

Veronica nodded. They were fast approaching the place where she wanted to finally kill Captain Ellison. "Daddy protected me."

"Your daddy wouldn't be happy with you if you didn't protect these people." Blair could see hesitation in her insane eyes.

The bus came to a stop.

"Open the doors," Veronica instructed. "Everyone in the front rows out the side doors." She raised her voice. "Captain Ellison, you come inside the bus and I'll allow two more rows of people out."

Veronica hadn't counted on the fact that once the doors were open the front row passengers blocked her view of the passengers at the rear of the bus. Most of the passengers managed to get off before Veronica shouted, "Stop!"

Chance and Austin reluctantly went back to their seat. A young man tried to make a break for the door but Veronica fired her gun hitting him in the shoulder. He dropped to the floor screaming in pain. A middle aged woman screamed and then sobbed.

Jim slid off of the bus roof. He held onto the open doorway to swing into the bus. "Let Blair and the others go, Veronica. You know that you only want me."

"No, I also want that British Commando who cheated my father out of his paycheck." Veronica grabbed Blair's flannel shirt by the shoulder. "I'll trade the rest of the passengers for that cheating Commando."

A crack of thunder caused Jim to flinch. "He's not here, Veronica."

"Then you just call him and get him here or I'll start shooting passengers." Veronica snarled.

The man lying on the floor of the bus moaned. He held his hand over his bleeding arm. "At least let him go," Jim said quietly.

Veronica shook her head. "The British cheater or he's the first to die."

Frank had called Simon relaying where the bus had stopped. As the rain steadily increased to a torrent he began to worry that any police sniper would be up to the task of taking out Veronica. He swore under his breath. His twins were on the bus. Frank patted the knife in his boot. If it came to that he'd take the woman out himself.

His cell phone rang interrupting his dark thoughts.

"Frank," Jim spoke with deadly urgency. "Veronica wants you on the bus in exchange for letting all the rest of the passengers off."

It was the way that Jim had said the rest of the passengers that Frank knew that he meant Frank's twins. "Let the bitch know I'll be right there." He floored the gas pedal.

Driving towards the police station Henri and Rafe overheard the call on their police scanner about the bus. Henri changed directions. "No siren," he told Rafe.

Veronica watched from the bus as Frank shed his raincoat. Dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans it seemed to Veronica that the former British Commando had no weapons. She smiled.

"You said that you'd let the passengers go," Jim reminded her.

Shoving Blair away from her Veronica nodded. "Open the doors again," she told the driver.

Blair stumbled against a seat. Veronica waved him to sit down.

Austin and another male passenger helped carry the barely conscious injured man out of the bus. Shivering in the cold rain he avoided looking at his father. Chance helped one of the frightened women off of the bus. Everyone hurried to get off of the bridge.

"I didn't cheat your father," Frank kept a wary eye on Veronica.

"You lie as well as cheat," Veronica calmly shed her raincoat. She stood almost proudly letting Jim, Blair and Frank see the suicide vest.

From where he stood Jim had a good view of the vest. He knew where Veronica needed to press to detonate the vest. He knew also where it could be disconnected.

Blair felt his heart beating hard in his chest. He briefly thought of jumping Veronica but a sharp, "Chief, I'm sure that Veronica will feel a little more comfortable if you scoot back on your seat."

"It doesn't matter, "Veronica hissed. "As soon as the cheat gets on board we're all going to the last stop together." She moved back standing against the bus dash.

Frank shivered in the rain. He'd been in worse situations. "I didn't cheat," he repeated letting his working class British accent bled into his voice. "My old man helped me."

"I don't believe you," Veronica scowled. "It was in a war zone."

"My old man used to try to teach me to gamble." Frank's knife had been hidden in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He mentally calculated what it would take to throw and the distance he'd need if he wanted to kill Veronica before she detonated the vest.

Tilting her head Veronica seemed mildly interested. "So he taught you to cheat."

"No," Frank said. Jim slowly edged forward.

"Stop," Veronica snapped. She pointed the gun at Jim. "You continue Englishman."

"It's Frank," Frank said. He took a step. "I won't learn. I didn't want to be like my old man. He finally gave up."

"Then how did you cheat?" Veronica was starting to become impatient.

Frank slowly inhaled. The cold was forgotten. He noted that Jim had edged forward again. If his plan was to work it would need Jim and he seemed to know. Blair seemed to also notice that something was going on. He inhaled pulling himself back against the cold metal of the bus. Jim and Frank were going to make some kind of play.

"I sat down at the game mainly thinking that I'd lose a few pounds-dollars." Even as he spoke Frank was getting ready to move.

Police cars pulled up on both sides of the bridge. An unhappy Simon arrived hearing that the SWAT van had been hit by a speeding truck. "Damned," he swore.

Rafe had gotten out of Henri's car. Both men were assisting the frightened passengers. Rafe dressed in his blue uniform and police standard raincoat seemed to have a calming influence on the frightened passengers.

"I'm going to need a sniper," Simon growled. He looked worriedly at the bus. There was no way that any police would be able to approach the bus unseen.

"Sir, I can shoot her," Rafe said in a quiet confident voice.

"Kid," Simon said.

"Rafe," Henri said.

"I killed a black mamba when I was ten. My sister had found the little grey snake and was teasing it." Rafe looked calmly at Simon. His police hat shielded his face from the heavy rain. "I was the top marksman in my class."

"Killing a snake to save your sister is one thing. Killing a person is another," Simon said gently.

Rafe nodded. "I killed a man to save a friend's life. It's why my family migrated from South Africa."

Simon looked into the steady calm blue eyes. "Son, we don't have a rifle."

"I don't need one," Rafe answered.

On the bridge near the bus Frank had continued his story. "When I sat down to play I felt my shoulder squeezed." A slight smile formed on Frank's face. "I knew then that my old man had just died. He'd come to say good bye."

Veronica's gun hand slowly lowered. Jim tensed.

"I heard him say, 'Play, Son, you're not going to lose," Frank took another step forward.

A thought had occurred to Blair. He quietly removed one of his shoes. The moment that Veronica turned to look at Jim he threw the shoe knocking the gun out of Veronica's hand.

She screamed. "You make one move and I'll detonate the vest!"

Blair dropped unhappily back in the seat.

Jim felt his gut tighten. Veronica had moved so that that taking her by surprised was no longer possible.

The knife in Frank's sweatshirt slowly slipped towards his hand.

Rafe calmly walked towards the bus. He held his gun in one hand. It was concealed by the sleeve of his raincoat. Rain dripped off of the bill of his police cap. He briefly remembered that the last time he'd shot someone it had been a hot South African day.

Veronica's hand hovered near the detonation switch. "Get in the bus," she hissed at Frank. "We have to go together."

"No," Frank had to raise his voice to be heard over the rain. "You American women tend to get bossy." Rain saturated his clothing. His body shivered.

Jim had reached Blair's position. He closed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Nice try," he said in a low voice. "Do something like that again and I'll kick you all the way to next week."

Veronica appeared to be confused. She wanted to retrieve her gun but doing so would leave her exposed. "Get in the damned bus!"

Rafe continued to walk at a steady pace towards the bus. He'd set aside all memories and feelings concentrating only on the fact that he was a police officer. Lives were at stake. He'd only have one shot.

Veronica turned in exasperation to Jim. "I'll let your friend off of the bus if you make the cheating liar get on the bus."

"I'm not going," Blair said.

Jim hauled Blair up by his shirt. "Get off of the bus, Chief." Jim pushed Blair behind him. "You're not a cop."

Veronica smiled. "Just Captain Ellison and the British Commando are going with me." The smile vanished as she spotted the approaching Rafe. "Get rid of that policeman."

Rafe nodded to Frank. "I've come to arrest you, Veronica Sarris."

Veronica laughed. "Enough. You'll all die." Her hand moved towards the detonator.

To Blair it all seemed in slow motion. Jim shoved him down. Rafe raised his arm. There was a flash from his gun. Frank threw his knife in that same instant. The bullet hit Veronica between her eyes. The knife impaled itself in her right eye. Her hand was inches from the detonator. She slowly fell.

Jim leaped forward catching her. Frank leaped up the stairs. He pulled gently pulled the detonator loose.

Much later at the police station Frank had changed into dry clothes his wife Peggy had dropped off for him. He sat with Jim and Blair drinking hot coffee in a conference room. "I killed her," he said firmly.

"Your knife was slower than my man's bullet," Henri slapped Rafe on the shoulder.

"Nice shot," Jim said.

"Thank you," Rafe looked up from writing his statement. There was a guarded expression in his eyes.

"It was really close," Blair took off his wire rimmed glasses to rub his tired eyes.

"You're not a cop, Chief," Jim said. He fixed a stern look at Blair. "When I tell you to stay that's what I mean."

"The professor did relieve the woman of her gun." Frank pointed out. He stood up stretching. "I have to go home and have a discussion with my teenagers on getting into fights. In a civilized fashion of course," he grumbled.

Blair grinned. "Austin and Chance will probably be grounded for life."

"Uh huh," Jim studied Blair for a minute. His future as a police officer seemed to count on his controlling his strange zone outs. "Frank gave me this rare book. I was wondering if you'd like to come to dinner at my old man's house. We could discuss it."

"Yeah," Blair was on his feet, "I'd like that."

Left alone with Rafe Henri had to ask, "Who was it that you shot?"

Rafe slowly inhaled. "I shot a white man who was trying to kill one of my friends. I was cleared in a court of law. Unfortunately, in the court of public opinion," he shrugged. "My father got both our family and George's family out of South Africa. He's living in Canada."

EPILOGUE-Three weeks later

"The seller was very motivated." Charlie accepted a piece of cake from Sally.

"Charlie, it's cool that you'll be living in Cascade." Blair tasted the carrot cake. "This is great cake, Sally." She smiled.

"Will you get an office down town for your psychic business?" William inquired. After years of living alone with only Sally for company he'd enjoyed having Jim move in and having neighbors again.

Charlie let out a sigh. "While being eighty-seven percent correct is a good thing, I'm just another psychic as far as most people are concerned."

"I think that you're a great psychic," Austin looked up from his cake. "You found Lady for Tex." The perfectly matched steel grey dogs raised their heads at the mention of their names.

Frank smiled. "So what are you going to do, Charlie?" He liked the little psychic. Charlie's present of twin 'good luck' brass dragons to guard their new home next door had delighted Peggy and the twins.

"I'll be writing crime novels with a psychic detective as the hero." Charlie lifted his coffee cup. "I know in three years that I'll be a bestselling author."

"A best selling writer with a professor for a roommate," Jim came into the kitchen. He'd dressed in jeans and a tee shirt under a red and black flannel shirt.

Jim looked happy but William knew the only fly in the ointment was the fact that he'd failed the brain scan. He'd zoned in spite of preparation by Blair during the brain scan. The results had Jim labeled as having major epilepsy. Even with medication Jim could no longer work as a police officer.

"Grab the keys, Chief, we have to get on the road if we want to deliver Frank's big rig to its new owner." Jim swung his backpack over one shoulder. He grabbed Blair's leather backpack from by his chair.

"It's fortunate that the school is having a break." William tasted his coffee. He'd vowed to be positive about his son's new ventures.

"It'll be the only vacation that we'll get for a while," Jim said. "It's going to take some work to setup a security firm."

"Speaking of vacations," Frank turned to his son. "Round up your sister and walk the dogs. You two have Internet classes." He rose from the table. "I've got to see about setting up the new pawn shop. Thank you for the cake."

Austin wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Thank you for the cake and milk, Sally."

She smiled.

Frank tossed Blair the keys to the big rig. "Don't scratch the paint, Blair. That truck brought me eighty thousand dollars."

"I've driven trucks with my uncle," Blair rose from his chair.

Once everyone departed William turned to Charlie. "Jim will be all right won't he?"

Charlie smiled. "Yes, Jim will be fine. He and Blair will continue to work things out but in a couple of years they'll have a successful security firm up and running."

At the downtown police station Detective Henri had wandered downstairs to where Officer Murphy was filling out a report. "Murphy," he greeted the older man.

"Brown," Murphy looked up from the report.

"Just thought I' come down and ask you to keep an eye on my partner," Henri said. "He'll be taking the Detective's exam come September."

Murphy nodded, "Rafe is a good cop. He'll be a great detective."

()()()()()()()

THE END


End file.
